


Hush

by yekaterina



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Best Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, F/F, Multi, Trans Katya, Yearning, multiple allusions to other stories about witches, witchery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 04:37:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13651584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yekaterina/pseuds/yekaterina
Summary: “How’d you find her?” Trixie knows the answer, but she asks to entertain Katya and her obsession with the gloves she received in May from BeBe. Trixie had wished she had bought them, but she has since accepted that she cannot beat a literal mind-reader at birthdays. Katya likes Trixie's gift of charmed tarot cards that have their own personalities and speak their names in French well enough anyway.Katya holds her hands up to cover her real eyes with the ones embedded in her palms. They move on their own and are glowing red like they did in Trixie’s bedroom. “The hills have eyes, Barbara.”





	Hush

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anyanerves](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyanerves/gifts).



> this fic will contain dark themes including but not limited to death (the exploration and multiple mentions of it, blah blah blah, katya and trixie aren't going to die), demonic shit, horror, gore, bodily fluid stuff, and overall... it's just going to be creepy and weird because that's how witch au's should be!
> 
> i will make a point to do a warning in the chapter notes whenever needed. and yeah there is the overarching witchery of it all, but this is a friends-to-lovers thing, so it will be sweet and fun! but i wanted to publish something of the horror genre for my buddy walty.
> 
> happy early valentine's day!
> 
> warnings for this chapter: the inherent body horror of a dead body coming back to life and throwing up (unrelated to any eating disorders).

“Wake up,” Katya’s voice slices through Trixie’s dreams of fields, forests, and soft rainfall. The scents of lemongrass and honey fade away as Trixie blinks awake, replaced by the stench of stale cigarettes and swamp water. The rainfall persists through the dreamscape and into reality, though it hardens in its travels. Raindrops putter against the window to the left of Trixie's bed in a violent rhythm.

The crack and boom of thunder echoes down the street below. She rolls over to face Katya and she is blinded by a red glow pouring out of her palm. Trixie groans and throws an arm over her eyes to shield herself from the harsh light.

“Wake up!” Katya sounds impatient now, but joyful, like she always does on Christmas morning. It is June. It is hot, dark, and murky in New Orleans. If Trixie hadn't latched her window shut before she went to sleep, the city's smog would have slithered into her bedroom. There is a squelching sound, wet boots stomping hard on the wood floor. Katya might wake the whole house. She has done so countless times before.

“No.” Trixie grumbles the denial deep from her belly. Her throat is dried out from sleep and her mouth tastes like the medicinal herbs Shea has been making for her with Trixie's absence from her duties.

Everyone has been respectful of her current bout with a debilitating period, save for Katya. It is no surprise to any of the women in the house nor to Trixie herself. Katya is the only one who can get away with it. She can get away with anything in Trixie's book.

“I found a dead body in the  _swa-aaahmp_ ,” Katya says, dragging out the last word in a cheery sing-song. “Up and at ‘em, baby!”

“You’ll be a dead body,” Trixie mutters in a sad, groggy attempt to shut her up. Katya ignores the threat and grabs hold of Trixie’s shoulders to toss her back and forth. She is wearing her red satin opera gloves and the long black claws on her fingertips scratch Trixie’s skin.

Trixie groans again and sticks an arm out to push Katya away and shove her back by her face. Katya squirms out of her weak grip and she smacks her hands down on the bed repeatedly, making the mattress squeak under her strength.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up—"

“Oh my God, fuck off!” Trixie shouts. She means it, mostly. Without a shred of remorse, Katya hops onto the bed and onto Trixie, jabbing her chubby stomach with one of her bony knees.

A grunt bursts out of Trixie and it breaks down into a sigh as Katya settles her thighs on either side of her. The weight of Katya, the coolness of her silk underwear, and her soft dick pressing into her exposed tummy makes Trixie want to scream. She keeps her arm stretched over her eyes.

“If you don’t wanna leave, I can stay,” Katya whispers. Trixie slides her arm up her forehead and sees the red glow has softened like Katya’s voice has. The light illuminates the room sparsely, the summery colors that are radiant in the sunlight are either rubified or cast into the shadows in the deep night.

Katya's grey-blonde hair and the whites of her eyes shine pink. Trixie smiles and Katya smiles back. Her teeth are pink as well, perfect little candies lined up between plump lips. Trixie wants to lick over her mouth to see if those teeth taste how they look. She knows they won't, despite never having done so before. Katya is sure to taste like weed and Camels.

Maybe blood. She is a perpetual lip gnawer, opting to tear away dry skin instead of using the balms made specifically for her.

“I want to sleep," Trixie whispers back. Katya's hands are on her own hips. Trixie squints as she looks her up and down, making like she is bemused by Katya's outfit to cover how it is making her melt.

Katya is wearing a black blouse that is tight on her torso like a corset. It has a cape collar with the tips reaching down to her small breasts, and long silver clasps that run from her sternum to her belly button to keep the shirt closed. The sheer black sleeves that end at her elbows are puffy enough to mask the toned build of her arms, to Trixie's battling dismay and relief.

She has on a black plastic choker around her sunburned neck, probably something she bought for cheap at a Claire's. Trixie rolls her eyes.

Katya sticks out her tongue. It’s blood red. “Okay then. Sleep. But I’m gonna get brownie points from BeBe and Raja, then I’ll be one move ahead of you in becomin' a priestess, and then I’ll partakin' in rituals that you can’t..." Katya trails off and pops her head to the side to smile down at Trixie, though it is more like baring her teeth.

“All because of a dead body?” Trixie asks. She is dubious. A coven of witches is no stranger to the dead, be it corpses or vampires or other creatures of the night. Katya's lips close to grace her with a wicked smirk. Trixie's head is dizzy from being ill, but more so from Katya's mouth.

“A dead body that is in the process of reanimatin' itself,” Katya says as she gets off of her to return to her position beside the bed. She mock-dusts her bare thighs off. Trixie instantly misses the weight of her and what Katya has said registers after a few seconds of silent pouting passes.

Trixie’s eyes bug. She sits up in bed far too fast and Katya slowly nods, her excitement calming down but remaining palpable. Trixie tells her to sit still while she gets dressed. Katya doesn't listen and she instead helps Trixie change her pad, then change into a breathable peasant shirt and an ankle length skirt. In the dark, Trixie doesn't dwell on Katya's eyes and hands on her. She has just enough sense in her condition to tell Katya to cover her legs too.

“How’d you find her?” Trixie knows the answer, but she asks to entertain Katya and her obsession with the gloves she received in May from BeBe. Trixie had wished she had bought them, but she has since accepted that she cannot beat a literal mind-reader at birthdays. Katya likes Trixie's gift of charmed tarot cards that have their own personalities and speak their names in French well enough anyway.

Katya holds her hands up to cover her real eyes with the ones embedded in her palms. They move on their own and are glowing red like they did in Trixie’s bedroom. “The hills have eyes, Barbara.”

Trixie takes hold of one of Katya’s hands. The eyeball in the center of Katya’s palm is slimy and squishy and the claws graze against her skin, but she doesn’t relinquish her grip. Trixie follows Katya out of the bedroom and through the hallways of the house. It is a manor, large but not large enough in its natural state.

Courtesy of centuries-old magic, the interior of the house defies dimensional understanding as rooms and halls shift and rearrange in accordance with the needs of those who travel within it, as to accommodate for thirteen women living in a house that was meant to house a mere six.

Some of the women sleep in rooms built in the original years of construction, some sleep in duplicates that emerged out of thin air into the world lifetimes later. The main staircase moves in response to wherever Katya is thinking of taking her and Trixie is further lead out of the back door and into the garden.

A white stone path leads them to a gazebo. It appears to be nothing out of the ordinary, save for the white chalk markings in the center of the old, weathered and splintering wooden panels.

Katya and Trixie join hands and stand in their marked places. Together the women chant a travel spell, then Katya speaks a further directorial incantation. They slip out of the air and then slip back into it, but on the outer edge of the aforementioned swamp.

They are standing a couple yards from a wooden shack that has fallen into disrepair. Nightfall is somewhat muted in the city, what with all the lights and pollution. But in the swamp, the sky is pure black and speckled with infinite stars. It wraps around the women like the warm embrace of a mother's arms. The heat wraps around them too. Trixie is growing faint and Katya supports her weight as they walk closer to the shack.

Sweat is rolling down Trixie's forehead and her neck. She might throw up any second. Katya is murmuring up into her ear; she could be saying anything. Trixie can't focus on her voice with the sounds of cicadas singing, frogs croaking, and bats squeaking overhead.

Katya has to stop her from taking another step and Trixie mumbles a question she herself cannot understand. Somehow Katya understands her and she states her reply very clearly.

"The body. It's right in front of us, Trixie.”

Her eyes roll down to gaze at the space in front of her feet. Sure enough, there is a woman's body settled in the brown and green muck. She looks to have been burned alive and her flesh is charred black in some places or completely melted away in others. The longer Trixie stares in horror at the woman, the less horrifying she looks. Trixie watches on as her left cheek evolves from shredded muscle to smooth skin.

Trixie takes three steps backward to turn around and hurl her brains out. The bile twists in her stomach and burns as it shoots out of her throat. She digs her fingers into her knees to remain upright. A pair of hands come to hold her hips, but they break away, one to hold her hair out of her face as the other rubs circles into her flexing back. Katya is murmuring unintelligible words again.

The hurling ends after a hellish minute and Trixie only just catches her breath when a pained moan comes from behind her and Katya. Trixie wipes her mouth and covers it with her hand as she looks at Katya, whose concern for Trixie morphs into delight at the horrible sound. Trixie pats Katya on the shoulder, indicating that it is alright for Katya to leave her alone and inspect the body.

Katya approaches the woman and she does so in a joyful run, boots stomping through the mud, sending chunks of it flying up all around her and onto the sarong she borrowed from Trixie. She sits down on her heels next to the woman in the mud.  Katya takes off her gloves and she sets them in her lap, so she can take hold of the woman's hands.

It is a matter of comforting the poor woman, but also so Katya can do a reading, learn who she is and why she was left for dead in the swamp. Trixie folds her arms and ambles closer as she watches them. Katya leans down into the woman's space, their noses nearly touching as Katya says something to her.

The woman's mouth moves and Katya nods, looks over her shoulder at Trixie.  
   
“Her name is Jinkx. She came here to join us.”

 

 

They sneak Jinkx back into the manor. Or rather, they are allowed the night to figure out their story before they are sure to be questioned by the council in the morning. Trixie can feel BeBe's disapproving energy bearing down on her shoulders, even though the woman is in a deep slumber.

The high priestess is no stickler. Still, the unbalanced chi that having more than thirteen women living in the house would induce is a risk Trixie doubts she would be willing to take. For now, Trixie and Katya focus on getting Jinkx to cackle at a lower volume.

Jinkx's recovery is remarkable. She smells of ash and swamp and her death, but her eyes are clear, and they are full of liveliness in the dimmed kitchen lights. Her smile is pure Chesire and she speaks grandly from her place on a bar stool, uncaring that her wild mane of red hair is growing back in patches on her head at a snail's pace.

Jinkx demands wine when the Trixie attempts to get her to eat last night's pasta leftovers, much to the delight of Katya who resembles the scorched witch in laughing loud enough that Trixie has to smack her hand over her mouth.

Trixie is enthralled by Jinkx's manner, the decadence that a woman wearing but a burnt shapeless black dress down to her bare feet can carry. She is proud but grateful, refusing new clothes but accepting the sounds of pity that Trixie and Katya make as she relays her story.

Katya pours her a red blend and she thanks her, sips at her glass as Trixie does a light interrogation while sitting on the kitchen island. Katya taps her fingers on one of Trixie's knees in no set pattern and Trixie's hand winds its way through the dry curls of Katya's hair, playing with the stands without thought.

Jinkx eventually finishes her glass and sighs, looking around at nothing in particular. The interior of the house is beautiful in an old-time way, white walls and dark wood floors. The decor is colorful and avant-garde, under the collaboration between Raja and Pearl. Jinkx doesn't seem to care about the consideration put into the arrangements. Trixie can understand why aesthetic appreciation is low on her priorities.

"Tired? Trixie questions. Jinkx nods and stands. She slides the wine glass across the kitchen island before curling her finger to direct the glass up into the air and down into the sink.

It is impressive for a walking corpse. Katya and Trixie both clap for her and Jinkx does a little bow, waves dismissively with her hand.

"I'll retire to that lovely looking couch over there," Jinkx says. She casts her finger towards the couch and begins walking towards it with her arm outstretched. Katya tears herself away from Trixie to hurry over to the woman.

Jinkx attempts to soothe her concern by patting her on the head. Jinkx appears, despite her still withered skin, to be much younger than Katya despite acting ages older. Perhaps she has an old soul, in the literal sense.

"I've slept in far worse places than on a warm leather sofa, believe me." Jinkx continues. Katya laughs a little but shakes her head. "The bog you fetched me out of, for one."

"Don't be silly! You can have my room," Katya says. She wraps an arm around Jinkx and hugs her from the side like they have been friends all of her life. "I'll bunk with Trixie."

Jinkx looks at Trixie and is assured by her that it is fine, that she and Katya do that all the time. Jinkx further asks how she is to get to Katya's room, to which she is told to _just_   _think about it_. She gets a kick out of that and departs with an airy  _goodnight darlings_ that echoes throughout the rooms downstairs.

Trixie remains seated on the counter as Katya corks the wine bottle that Jinkx left 3/4ths empty and she returns it to the cellar. When Katya comes back, Trixie looks between her and the mud tracks all over the wood floors. She laughs despite herself, sees a flash of Katya coming towards her before Trixie drops her face into her hands.

"I think we've made a mistake," Trixie says into her palms. Her hands are pulled away and she is left looking down at Katya standing between her thighs. She is given a soft smile from Katya, one Trixie returns half-heartedly. Katya squeezes her hands before letting go of them.

"Possibly," Katya says. She runs her thumb down Trixie's cheek and cups her chin. Her fingerpads are dry, warm, her gloves left to sit forgotten on the counter beside Trixie. "How are you feelin'?"

Trixie shakes her head and slumps down, hugging herself. Her tummy is aching as well as her head, between her thighs. Katya steps back and offers her a hand. She takes it and Katya leads her back up the stairs. They creep up them, careful to keep their feet nimble and maneuver around the squeaky spots, like a pair of children.

They fail at their attempts not to giggle at the situation nor at the loud snoring coming from behind Shea's door, and the women walk with soft footsteps back into the bedroom. Trixie falls back into her bed and makes room for Katya, who takes up little of the space offered.

She curls an arm and a leg around Trixie and burrows into her. Katya mutters a simple healing spell into the warm, sweaty skin of Trixie's neck and it helps alleviate some of the aching between Trixie's legs.

Trixie falls asleep soon after and the forest of her dreams is burning down, smoke is sifting through the trees and the rainfall is doing nothing to tame the flames. Out from the ashes rises a woman's hand. It takes hold of Trixie's wrist and pulls her deeper and deeper into the dirt until she is completely submerged in the darkness, but it is a peaceful sinking.


End file.
